Whirlwind in a Yellow Dress
by Shooting Starlight
Summary: [INCOMPLETE] Adventure, romance, danger. A mysterious jungle man with a curious past. For Jane Porter, it’s all just beginning. The Disney film ‘Tarzan’, seen in Jane’s PoV.
1. A Grey Painting

**Category: **Disney's Tarzan

**Title: **Whirlwind in a Yellow Dress

**Author: **Shooting Starlight

**Genre: **Romance/Drama

**Rating: **PG

**Warnings: **Some violence, mild peril, mild angst

**Summary: **Adventure, romance, danger. A mysterious jungle man with a curious past. For Jane Porter, it's all just beginning. The Disney film 'Tarzan', seen in Jane's PoV.

**Disclaimer: **The title of this story is taken from the poem _'Whirlwind in a Yellow Dress' _by Katrina, found on the website _'Animated Lust Rated PG'. _Characters from Tarzan belong to Edgar Rice Burroughs & Disney. Any other characters and/or descriptions belong to me.

**NOTE: **The Disney movie 'Tarzan' is set in the 1800's, due to the references made to Darwin and Queen Victoria. Because Edgar Rice Burroughs based his novel in the early 1900's, that is the setting I have taken on in this story. I will therefore leave out such references for the sake of history. However, I am still keeping Jane, Porter and Clayton with their British heritage as shown in the movie, rather than American as in the novel. In short, only the dates and extra characters included from the books will be there, but will be based around the fic so that it ties in with the animated movie.

* * *

**Chapter 1 – A Grey Painting**

_The year 1909_

I've always wanted an adventure. It seems as if everybody's had one but me. I could take a book of my shelf, any book, and read it to you, and you would know what I mean. Take, for example: _Treasure Island, _or _Through the Looking Glass. _

_Wuthering Heights. Sherlock Holmes. _The list seems to go on, doesn't it? But I suppose that's what makes a story readable in the end: an adventure. It's the cause for all excitement, I say. These characters all have a life that anyone would _dream _of living...although I'm not saying that they would _want _to, or that perhaps they're happening to the wrong person...

Oh, gosh – listen to me ramble on so! I'm so sorry. With all of this talk about 'adventures', I've completely forgotten to introduce myself. How rude of me.

I'm Jane Porter, and I live in the middle of London with my father, Archimedes Porter. Perhaps you've heard of him, perhaps not. Either way, he is probably one of the most brilliant men I have ever known, with his experiments and systematic research on the most fascinating subjects. Daddy's a scientist, you see...or, he's at least _trying _to be. His dream is to one day, create his own theory that will probably award him with a place in the history books.

I say: good luck to him. With what's happened to us over the years, his determination is still rather impressive.

You see, our family fell apart a little when Mother passed away. She was very ill, and it was a great loss. For Daddy, it spun him into a world of countless hours working in his study, trapped in the peace and quiet. Nowadays those hours just seem to grow and grow.

My mother and I used to spend Daddy's working afternoons together, either reading or confiding in one another's feelings. It was comforting, and helped to pass the time. I remember once, asking her about her fondest memory – and her only reply was to walk over to her wardrobe, and take out her wedding dress. I admit that I was rather touched by it all. I mean, she had kept it all those years.

Her strength, wisdom and honesty were what I admired about her the most. She was like my best friend; the only person I could talk to when I needed someone in confidence. She used to make me laugh, by tilting my head, looking into my face and saying: "Only a fool would not fall for your eyes."

She did talk some rubbish, sometimes.

It was no use trying to talk to Daddy about the things we spoke of. He sat in his world of doziness, ignoring everything around him until he finished for the day. Often I found it hard to get his attention. But I'm sure he understands now, and so do I. He's a busy man.

Why, at this minute he had become involved in studying the habitats of gorillas, and was very interested in their profile and manner. Since he was an explorer of nature, it was one animal after the next to find his 'theory', but he had always been coming back to gorillas from the beginning. I think that he found them a little more interesting, in a way.

Personally, they were also one of my favourites – which isn't obvious to see from a first glance at myself, I might add. I'm not exactly what you'd see as a...well, how can I put it? Um... a country girl.

How I dream of it! London is all well-and-good, but seeing the same sights everyday is enough to positively bore someone. Nothing new ever happens.

I sighed down at the busy streets from my bedroom window, my head in my hands. _Everywhere looks so grey, _I thought, staring up at the threatening sky. _Grey, and lonely. Was there no more sunshine left then? _

These mornings left me to little option. Since Mother's death, I had discovered new ways to keep myself busy, and this left me retreating back to an old hobby of mine – art. I loved painting as a child, and now kept a sketchbook handy by the bedside. I'm quite fond of drawing, especially when I travel.

_Perhaps I could pop out for a while, when Daddy's studying? _I wondered. I was longing to get out of the house.

A smile touching my lips, I reached towards the desk and snatched up the book, straightening out my tan skirts in front of the mirror, and brushing my hair straight, which wasn't always easy as it was rather impulsive at times. However, I managed to fasten it on the top of my head after a small struggle, and made my way out into the hall, towards Daddy's study.

_Heavens, I just hope he remembers that I've told him, _I thought, biting my lip. _I worry about him sometimes; his memory seems to be failing over the years. _

I made my way to his door and knocked, quietly. No answer. _Perhaps he's working, _I guessed. It was likely; lately he could not be torn away from it.

"Daddy?" I asked quietly, opening the door and peering around the side. _Oh dear._

An uneasy view lay before me. Daddy was bent over his desk, which was strewn and covered with documents and loose papers. He had his head resting in the knuckles of his hands; an irritated frown on his brow. _He really **is **busy, _I thought, and with a little sympathy. _Perhaps it's best not to disturb him too much._

Coughing a little to clear my throat, I spoke up. "Um...Daddy? Excuse me, I'm so sorry to bother you when you're working, but I - "

But instead of a cut-off, as I had expected, all he did was shoo me away with one of his hands, without looking up. "Not now, Jane!" he snapped.

_Well, _I figured huffily. _That's gratitude for you! And I was polite enough to at least make some sort of agreement on the matter! _I brushed away the angry thoughts, reminding myself how hard at work he was; probably too tired to hear my girlish rants, either.

I breathed a small, frustrated sigh. "Oh, it's nothing to bother you with," I said quickly. "I just came by to say that I'll be out for a while. Not for long, I promise." My fingers strayed along the frame of the door as I waited patiently...for any response.

"Is that all right with you?" I asked hopefully, after hearing none.

These kinds of talks always went in the same pattern. I would ask something, and then be sent away. But I always waited for a better answer...which didn't come often – and then I had to be _demanded _away. It became quite tedious.

Daddy made that same motion again with his hand again, like I was a little girl asking to play. "Yes, yes! Whatever!" he said, crossly. "I just want to get on with this! Now, please! I need quiet!"

See what I mean?

I sighed deeply, and said thank you before closing the door behind me. I held it to my back, and stared at the ceiling, one hand trailing over my lips. _He's not getting any better, _I thought bitterly, brushing my hair out of my eyes and letting my chest fall in one, long breath. _Poor Daddy. I just wish I knew what to do about him. _

I threw another glance back at the hallway as I went down the staircase, frowning in worry and brushing a lone strand of hair back onto my head. When he was like this, it was impossible to rely on speaking terms between us to solve problems. I secretly thought that his work load was the cause of his memory loss, sometimes.

I lifted my dark purple overcoat from the rack and put it around my shoulders, slipping on my gloves absent-mindedly as my thoughts drifted somewhere else. _All of that studying can't be good for his health, _I told myself. _I should address him properly about it when I come back. He spends **far **too much time shut away in his room like that. _

"Oh gosh, my hat," I mumbled to myself, one hand flying to my head as I was already halfway out of the door.

Picking it up, I couldn't help thinking how flamboyant it was. I mean, orange speaks for itself when presenting boldness, but having it as a six-inch feather sticking out at the side was something different. _Oh well, _I thought, popping it on my head with a click of the tongue, _Daddy seems to want me to seep into the latest fashions nowadays. Besides, no woman in London would ever **dare **set foot in the street without a hat. The last thing I want is a load of old noses staring down at me._

Sketchbook and pencil in hand, I left.

London was extremely crowded this morning. People in high hats and long dresses came up and down the cobbled streets. Couples holding hands rode in carriages pulled by harnessed horses.

I knew it was annoying, but I couldn't help thinking back to Daddy. His protectiveness had grown when our family had shrunk. Here I was, almost to reach my twentieth year and he still worried constantly about my safety. I sometimes wonder even to this day if he _sees _me as the age I am, and not just the ten-year old beckoning to hold his hand in a game of _'Ring – Around – the Rosy'. _

He only feels safe when I'm in the company of others...and even _then _he demands so much. And that still doesn't stop him from asking that annoying question: _"Are you all right?" _

Well, after hearing it minute after minute it gets annoying.

"Why does he have so little faith in me?" I asked aloud, to no one in particular.

A sudden, small tweet caught my attention. I spun around slowly, as not to startle anything...and spotted a tiny bird standing on a railing, looking quite lost. _How simply darling! I don't think it's going to fly away – now, be quiet Jane!_

"Please don't move," I whispered to the bird softly, opening the sketchbook and placing the pencil to the paper. "Now, this won't take long." _What a find! _I thought. _Strange...this bird almost seems exotic compared to the likes of common city birds. Still...it makes a nice surprise. _The bird sat on the pole perch, cocking its head from side to side and trying to figure out what I was doing. I bit my lip as I concentrated on the detailed touches. _I'm lost in my own world when I'm drawing. It's silly, really. _

It didn't take long to finish the picture. I smiled and playfully showed the creature the drawing, thanking it for sitting so still. All the while I kept thinking: _where did it come from? It certainly isn't from around these parts. Perhaps it's migrated from somewhere. _

It wasn't until the bird took flight and a drop of water landed on the corner of the page, that I realised it was raining. _Oh, dear, _I found myself thinking, _and me without my umbrella! _I shrugged away the sudden breeze and folded the collar of my coat up and around my neck, one hand on my hat.

I knew that the bird probably wasn't enjoying itself if it _had _migrated here. What mysterious and outlandish lands it must have travelled from! _Gosh, what I wouldn't give right now to fly away to somewhere new. Just to take off and go whenever I wanted to. _But, as I told myself everyday: life wasn't always that easy.

The streets became a dreary grey painting as the rain poured down. I dashed along the cobblestones, looking to take shelter in the courtyard cemetery up ahead. There were plenty of trees that would blanket the weather from me. _Blast this rain! _I cursed in my head. _Today, of all days that I would forget that umbrella! I'm surprised I didn't see these rain clouds before I – _

_Oh. _

Stepping inside that cemetery gate always left me with a chill afterwards. It was strange...almost like the wind blew down the back of your neck for a purpose. Everything always felt surreal when I was inside this place. _It was a day like today when Mother's funeral took place, too. Raining, and miserable. I remember._ _It took me over half an hour to move Daddy away from the gravestone, _I recalled. _I would keep tugging at his hand, but he never moved. _

"_Soon, Jane dear," he would say. "We'll go home soon."_

Oh, Daddy...I never wanted to go home! I just wanted to show you I was there. I just wanted us to hold each other, and for us to tell the other everything would be all right. I...I _still _want that.

At least, when we talk about Mother I do. Otherwise, he seems perfectly fine..._most _days, anyway. Poor Daddy...

I sighed again, brushing the drops out of my eyes, and let my feet find the way to Mother's spot, lying underneath a gathering of cedar trees. Her favourite flowers were laced like a chain around the cold marble: jonquils, hollyhocks and her famous Indian-cane. _Some colour, _I smiled to myself. _She enjoyed lots of colour, being the artist she was. _

I wrapped my arms around myself as I stared blindly at the words engraved there.

_Here lies the body of_

_**JANE CARTER LEE PORTER**_

_Aged 65 years_

_LOVING WIFE, DEVOTED MOTHER_

_(1841 – 1906)_

"_Peace, perfect peace"_

I was named after her, you see. Daddy thought it was something of a tradition, really...he often said if a son had been born into the family, he would have been another Archimedes. Three years she had been dead now...three years.

Daddy felt as if I had changed in some way, accusing me of becoming cold. I _had _felt distant in a way, but never cold. Still, I was only grieving, like everyone else. _It just took some time for our small family to adapt to the change, _I reminded myself.

_Oh, if she had never become ill...things would be different now._

"You were so beautiful," I whispered. "You didn't do anything wrong – you never would. We loved you so much. It's just not right. It's unkind, that's all."

Talking to Mother comforted me a little. It always did. I wrapped my arms tightly around the sketchbook, watching the raindrops slowly drip off the jonquil petals.

"Daddy's taking good care of me," I mumbled, my voice shaking all of a sudden. "And I'm...I'm doing the same." _Oh...oh, what am I saying? _I thought in despair. _I haven't been helping Daddy at all! I mean, I've tried...but I've never done anything serious about it. He just won't let me in. His studies always seem to come first. _

That broke the ice. Two tears rolled out of my eyes and trickled down my cheeks. I couldn't even bring myself to look at the scratchy poem I had written for her on the day of the funeral, when I was only sixteen years old.

_Side by side, we will love one another for eternity. Both names, two Janes. One family. _

It all felt like a memory now. I worried so much about that day, unconfident that I was. I wanted everything to be just right for her. _Just right._

"Oh, forget the rain," I said to myself, watching it fall steadily past the tree branches and hitting the many gravestones, making slow slapping noises. Brushing the last of my tears away, I picked up my skirts to keep them out of the mud, and went for home. Rain seemed rather pointless to worry about anymore.

I wondered if the scene would have changed since I'd left. I doubted it, Daddy was so involved in the gorilla study that he barely moved around much anymore. _But, _I told myself, _I support him whole-heartedly in that. It's something that he can put all of his energy into. I just..._

I couldn't finish. I had probably already said it before. _Silly old Jane. _

It didn't take long to reach my front door. Stepping into the warmth of the hallway made me exhale aloud in comforted relief, and I shook my clothes free of the water, hanging them up dry. _Well, I can't say much for that orange feather now, _I giggled, blowing on it gently. _What a sorry sight!_

It was then that I heard Daddy's voice, drifting down from the upstairs office.

"Is that you, Jane?" he called out, uneasily, but in a cheerful way.

_Who else would it be? _I thought to myself with a snicker. I finally pulled the soggy gloves off of my palms and placed them on the sideboard, inside out due to their condition. _Oh, well. They will dry. In good time...in good time._

"Yes, Daddy!" I replied back, loudly up the staircase. "I'm here."


	2. Mr William C Clayton

**Disclaimer: **Characters from Tarzan belong to Edgar Rice Burroughs & Disney. Any other characters and/or descriptions belong to me.

* * *

**Chapter 2 – Mr. William C. Clayton**

Catching hold of the banister, I started up the staircase and made it upstairs, opening my bedroom door and stepping inside. Dropping my sketchbook on the bedside table, I went around the place and tidied things up a little. So often my messes got the better of me. I sighed as loose strands of my hair slipped out of the 'neatened' style I tried to accomplish every other day. _Blast this wind, sometimes, _I thought to myself, a small growl of frustration escaping. _It seems like it's always getting the better of me._

I straightened myself out as best as I could, and made for Daddy's office across the hall. The condition of the room surprised me to an extent every time, although I always prepared for it. _Goodness, _I wondered as I glanced fleetingly around the room. _I forget how disorganised Daddy can be when he wants to – or at least, when he's headlong into his studies, no less._

"Um...Daddy?" I asked, hoping to turn my attention away from the countless higgledy-piggledy piles of papers. "Hello, sorry to, uh - "

My father looked to be in deep, serious thought. His head was bowed, and he was flicking a pencil against the low corners of his moustache; chew marks all over the base. Although I could not see his face all that well, I could see the creases in his forehead; signs of an attentive frown.

" – bother you," I finished, clenching my teeth together. I had to admit, I was still rather worried about him. What a mess he was choosing to live in...

"Quite all right," Daddy muttered without even looking up. "Where have you been, Jane? I have been fretting, you know."

_Well, at least he remembers I went out, _I smiled. _Perhaps there is hope for him yet. _I scratched my nose broodingly, my other hand reaching out for a spare document on the table. I scanned it with my eyes as I spoke.

"Oh, nowhere...of great importance," I lied uneasily, my thoughts elsewhere again. "I _am _sorry, I should have been a little more specific earlier."

_Heavens, _my thoughts were saying as I read the research over carefully. I felt myself becoming rather absorbed in the descriptions, and the key links. There was so much...passion in his writing. It really _did _pull an audience in. _Has Daddy ever considered publishing some of his ideas? _I wondered to myself. _No wonder Mother always said that his work was a pursuit into his emotions. _

Daddy's confused voice snapped me out of my thoughts. "Did it rain?"

I darted away from my daydreaming and glanced up quickly. "Oh – oh, yes. Yes it did...rain, I can see why you asked that..." I briefly shot some attention towards the bottom of my damp skirts and hair, and pulling an uncomfortable smile, I placed the paper back onto the desk.

_He didn't even notice the weather, _I laughed in my head. _It came down thundering so, too! _

Lifting his head up out of his palms at last, Daddy read over his notes. That was, if you could _call _them notes. They seemed so scattered and scribbled that I could barely tell if they were words or diagrams. He "um"ed and "ah"ed for a while to himself too, another sign of his concentration.

"Oh, blast this infernal calculation!" he finally cried out, crumpling the paper into a tight ball and letting it drop in the folded mess around him. "I'll never be able to figure it out. All morning that's kept me busy!"

I half expected him to spit on it in disgust. But his outbursts like this were not uncommon in the Porter household. His frustration was known to lead him down different paths from time to time, it was something that Mother and I had grown to be used to.

I giggled a little, breaking the tension. "Admitting defeat, Daddy?"

"Oh, I suppose I'll _have _to, although I was rather looking forward to grasping that explanation by the _throat _– in physical terms, of course," he said, slumping back into his seat limply. "I just keep getting closer and _closer _to that goal, Janey, and every time it's within reach it somehow manages to slip away again."

Janey. It was a pet name that he first used on me when I was four. _It's managed to keep itself in the family as much as Daddy's rages, I see, _I told myself humorously. My heart went out for him more than I expected. I hated seeing him so unhappy. He put his sweat and blood into his work, pouring out hours of countless effort.

If only he would let me help sometimes...I would place as much passion and spirit behind his projects – I _knew _I would! He just...always persists that he can manage alone. Perhaps he secretly thought I had no devotion in his own interests. _Pfft, _I huffed in my head. _Well, how will he ever know if he constantly diverts himself from it? _

"You mustn't give up." My voice sounded pathetic and small.

Daddy smiled at me thankfully. "Oh, Jane, I know I shouldn't _really, _but when you approach certain blockades like _this_! - " He thrust the pyramid mass of crumpled balls into the air – "You just never imagine...you just don't _consider _ever reaching the other side – it seems impossible!"

It wasn't the first time he had said these words. I gave him a meek smile of encouragement, wanting to move around the desk and place a hand upon his shoulder. But in the end, decided not to. He was not in the best mood, as far as general opinions went.

"Nothing is impossible if you set your mind to it," I spoke, repeating the words that Mother often found a credit to relief. Instantly, despite the wisdom behind the sentence, I felt a rush of embarrassment flood me from head to toe. I suppressed a cough and stared out of the window absent-mindedly.

_What is it with me this morning? _I wondered curiously. _Everything that seems to spurt out of my mouth sounds like something out of a movie! So tasteless, so...cheap – at least when its spoken by none other than myself...otherwise it would be perfectly **fine! **Guh – rambling again! _

"Yes, yes, you are _absolutely _right!" Daddy exclaimed, obviously without noticing my focused attention to the cobblestones outside. He pointed a finger at me in agreement, finally rising from his chair and carefully finding his way around the desk without tripping. His clumsiness was noticeable in most circumstances, and had _unfortunately _been passed onto my own qualities.

I was not the most graceful person in the world, to put it short. It's one of my 'character flaws' as my cousin June likes to put it. She reckons that flaws make a person interesting, as she has _gladly_ pointed out many times. _So _many times...

"I have thought the _very _same thing!" Daddy continued, hopping around on one leg across the floor (it was very hard not to laugh, I must admit). "Which is why I have arranged for someone to visit today – well, actually I arranged it two weeks ago and forgot to mention the details, very sorry about that – but apparently, he is a wondrous expert on this certain scientific field, and we should be able to have a proper discussion with him on the matter – oh dear." He eventually stopped when his foot landed in the waste paper basket.

Through Daddy's babbling, (which I was quite used to by now) I had picked up some vital information.

_He has...**arranged **for someone to visit...**today? **_I was rather shocked, to be honest. I knew that my father had a poor memory at times, but I had figured that he would have least remembered _this..._

"What?" I found myself saying. "Someone is arriving to the _house _today?"

"Precisely," said Daddy, struggling to pull the basket off his leg.

"But – but, hold on, Daddy," I stammered, still trying to grasp sense of the situation at hand. "I still have _no _idea what this has to do with "nothing is impossible if you set your mind to it" – oh, why did I have to say that?" I finished meekly, the last part directed to myself. I placed a palm to my forehead and attempted to focus on what Daddy was saying. Mother's words had landed me in something completely different than expected.

_So much for being a credit to relief, _I thought, with irony.

"Who is it?" I asked carefully, just as Daddy wiggled free of his 'prison' with a _pop _and an "oomph" of surprise. Coughing, he stood up as though nothing had happened, except to brush himself down with an embarrassed chuckle. It was times like these that the fleeting thought shot through my head of Daddy belonging to a performance on a stage.

_Now is probably not the best time to daydream, Jane. _

"His name is William C. Clayton," Daddy explained. "He was forwarded to me by an acclaimed word-of-mouth, who considers he is just the right man for the job. He is also Greystoke – _the _Lord Greystoke. He is, in fact, an esteemed person for such an expedition as this."

_Expedition? _

The word stung in my head. It should have been the one I questioned, for Daddy was not making himself clear again, but somehow I found myself speaking quite differently.

"That seems incredible," I said, "Being that everyone knows the heir of Greystoke has disappeared – vanished into thin air, more like. How did they discover that this...William Clayton was the root of the inheritance?"

"They didn't!" Daddy said, shockingly. "_He _did! Apparently he came to the fortunes with excellent proof, and they took his word for it, although he refused to show this proof to anyone outside of the authorities. Besides, Janey, what does it matter what his title is? This man is a cultivated expert on gorilla habitats! Absolutely _perfect _for the journey!"

_Perfect. _Daddy had never even _met _the man before. He could be _anyone. _I was known to always be a little suspicious around strangers, especially if they were to carry such a high honour as 'Lord Greystoke', oh yes, I was! I was usually known to be delivered with cold looks from the _richly _esteemed upper class, as if I were a girl wanting to be part of it, trying too hard with gaudy styles and trimmings.

"Wait, Daddy – you said "journey"... "expedition"!" I cried out, helpfully moving the chair aside so he could scoot past. "Why are you saying these things?"

_It isn't like Daddy to go abroad and leave, just like that, _I told myself.

"Why, Jane!" he coughed. "Have I not already explained it to you? The gorilla research is to take place in the magnificent jungles of deepest Africa!"

I felt the world spin beneath me. At that moment, time stopped.

"What?" I heard myself whisper. "_Africa?_"

-xXx-

William C. Clayton arrived that afternoon, around four o'clock. I heard the banging at the door, and was instantly filled with the image of a snooty aristocrat, with a large handlebar moustache and top hat, complete with coattails and a polished walking stick. I could even hear his voice:

"_Oh, marvellous! My old bean, this is simply splendid!"_

I suppressed a giggle at the thought. Something in my senses confirmed that Mr. Clayton was just going to be rather different from other polite young gentlemen. I sighed and blew back a piece of hair (another irritating habit of yours truly), following Daddy down the stairs to answer the door.

"B-but, Daddy!" I started. "_Africa? _Isn't it a little extreme...for _you, _I mean?"

"Nonsense!" he replied back, wafting me with his hand and releasing another laugh. "Why I'm always ready for a challenge, if I do say so myself! I'm as fit as a fiddle! Healthy as a horse! Stronger than a - " His foot missed the next stair, cutting him off, and skipping my heart a beat.

_Ohhh, Daddy... _The thought of him in the jungle was impossible to imagine. He wasn't the best explorer, and also had a habit of wandering off, intrigued by his curiosity if he spotted a _butterfly, _for Heaven's sake! I would worry to _death _if he went on this journey. _I worry about him all the time, _I realised. _Good gracious, I sound like a mothering nanny!_

I was about to point out another remark, but held myself back at the last minute. I had just reached the bottom of the staircase when the door opened, causing Daddy to stand back and make a grand, but unusual gesture with his hand. I peered around the corner with inquisitive eyes, my palms clasped behind my back.

"Superior afternoon, Clayton!" he said, with a smile. "Glad you could make it."

I stared, watching our guest walk into the hallway, and frowned in surprise. To my astonishment, he was a complete opposite to the character I had created in my imagination from the first mention of his name. He was a sturdy man, with a broad chin and small, beady black eyes. He had a moustache all right, but it certainly was no handlebar. His dark hair was slicked back onto his head, flecked with areas of grey around his ears, defining his age group.

His clothing was rather fancy indeed, but no coattails, or top hat were to be seen. Instead, he wore a buttoned jacket, and carried with him a dark umbrella, to keep out of the rain. It seemed, to me, that he was dark all over. He brought a funny coldness into the house that was difficult to shake off at first.

_Brr. He certainly cannot bring himself to light a fire, _I thought rather rudely, and was glad that I had not said it aloud. I directed my attention to the carpet, and tried not to let my eyes wander too much. Clayton was making me feel quite uncomfortable, but not a pleasant kind – I did _not_ like it at all.

_His eyes feel as though they are piercing me through...like burning pokers, _I thought, fidgeting a little. _Oh, I hope he does not talk to me much..._

"If a dreary downpour of great quantity is what you call 'superior', Professor, I would agree with you," Clayton said, with dryness in his voice. "We however, all have our own opinions." He spurted out his last words in revulsion, as he shook the loose raindrops from the umbrella outside.

I tried my hardest not to scrunch my nose up in one corner, which I often did when I was analysing something. His voice was perhaps the only factor I _ever _came close to, it was a deep, very refined type of voice, and although he didn't _quite _speak as intended in my thoughts, I could still feel a rumbling tremor of threat in the throat beneath that broad chin.

"Bl-_ast _this London chill!" he almost roared, shutting the door behind him with a dull bang, shutting out the dreary streets.

Daddy and I winched slightly, jumping from the noise. _How indecorous! _

"May I take your - " Daddy began, letting Clayton place his soaking wet coat across his outstretched arms. The weight and length that draped over my father's head almost pulled him to the ground. Shakily, he made his way towards the coat rack and struggled to hang it up, trembling on tiptoe. I stared in bewilderment at the insolence of it all.

I frowned after Clayton, and without even considering my place, felt my voice rise up from my chest and address itself loud on the air.

"Excuse me, have you no decorum? He is your host!"

Clayton turned about slowly, as if looking me up and down with a bad taste in his mouth. His eyebrows lifted, turning his lips into a thin sneer. It was not the most pleasant picture to see, and that was for a fact.

"My dear young lady," he snarled, not too politely, "I would advise you to keep your comments to yourself for the time being. Professor Porter and I are about to discuss something of great importance, that perhaps you are too...ahem, _busy _to consider any thought to. Why don't you toddle off now and go..._read _or something? Our matters don't concern you, I'm afraid."

_What in **Heaven's **name is **that **supposed to mean? _I thought to myself, a little haughtily than I had wanted it to sound in my head. _He's...he's actually **saying...**_

"Excuse me?" I said again, my voice rather hushed this time.

But Clayton chose not to answer my question. He _must _have realised that by proving my manners to stand at the door and welcome him into the house, I would at least have _some _interest in the matter of Daddy travelling to _Africa_! I certainly was not going to be bunched up into the corner of a room with a book or sewing needle, when my father's safety was in hand – oh, goodness, I'm doing it again! Worry, worry...worry.

I glared at him behind his back, helping Daddy back onto his feet after falling under the coat rack. He seemed quite flustered, but pleased with himself that he had successfully managed to get Clayton's button jacket up there in the end. I shuffled my skirts out of the way of the puddles on the floor, and followed suit.

"Oh – oh, Clayton!" Daddy cried out, straightening the bow tie on his shirt. "Have you managed to make the acquaintance of my daughter Jane? Why, she was just telling me earlier about how she was looking forward to meeting you personally, weren't you, dear?"

_Was I? _I kept my mouth shut, shooting Daddy a look as if to suggest: "Where did you hear that?", and only managed a meek smile to offer towards Clayton himself. However, he was so far ahead in front that he was almost halfway into the living room, and never even noticed I'd blinked an eyelid. I suppressed a moan of disgruntled anger at his behaviour. _I'm trying, I really am..._

"Tea, Professor," Clayton beckoned from inside the other room. "_Then _we can talk."

-xXx-

Clayton seemed very fraught to get on with the meeting. Once the tea had been poured and everybody was comfortably settled, he was constantly dropping hints to bring up the subject of Africa, some all too obvious, especially when he began to point at portraits upon the wall ("I hear her ancestors are from Sudan"), and claiming that Daddy's maps of South America were not as impressive in size as...well, you guessed it. _Africa. _I was amazed that my father had not caught up on all of these facts, but merely listened as though fascinated.

I could see Clayton's patience beginning to wear thin. Acting quickly, I shot up to his side with the teapot in hand.

"More tea, Mr. Clayton?" I asked, as politely as I could, but still controlling a reluctant smile...which I wasn't sure for what purpose. Perhaps to settle the atmosphere, I suppose. The last thing I wanted was for both gentlemen to be shouting odds across the room.

"Oh, thank you," Clayton said dismissively, not even looking up, and letting me pour the hot liquid into his cup.

_Perhaps you would have considered my presence if I had mistakenly tipped it into your lap, _I thought, presenting a sickly sweet grin behind his head. _'Mistakenly' being the heightened word there, of course. _I quickly sat back down in my seat before Clayton's rage began to fire up again. I knew that I was being ridiculous. I had barely given him a chance, really...and usually I took some time to know strangers. But...his attitude felt so...arrogant and unenthusiastic that I could not help myself.

"Let's continue with the subject, shall we, Professor?" he moved on, with a strain in his voice as he sipped at his tea. "You will be pleased to hear that I have made arrangements for the coach and shipping crew to take you to the required destinations on January 30th, our departing date. The coach will be collecting you from your house at ten o'clock sharp in the morning, and will take you down to the docks for the midday ship leave."

"January 30th?" Daddy repeated, sinking back into his chair. "That's a Saturday, isn't it?"

"Precisely," said Clayton, crossing his legs and leaning forward. "The preparations are all set. In less than another two weeks you will be heading out across the ocean blue, towards those outstanding jungles you get so excited about. I myself will accompany you on your journey. Now as it happens, I feel as though we have not fully talked about the extent of your research. Is it merely just the habitats you will be studying?"

Daddy shifted in his chair. "I would presume so, Clayton – you can't possibly expect us to catch a sighting of a gorilla? That would be a rare treat indeed!"

I flattened out the layers in my dress, looking back and forth between them both, wishing I could say something. The whole idea sounded so thrilling! Oh, how I _long_ for Daddy to take me with him! I have always wanted to go and take off to a new and different land – just as the adventurers did in my books! But, no...Daddy would _never _approve of that. I would have to take care of the house, and sit, and tidy...and catch up on the news with old friends.

I saw Clayton give a shifty smile. "Oh, what a shame. I was counting on seeing the magnificent beasts for myself," he said, placing his now empty cup on the tableside. His lip twitched as he settled his hand onto the armrest, staring in my direction with a sturdy grin.

I darted my eyes away, not wanting to make contact. The last thing I wanted right now was for Clayton to rub in the fact that I was not going too. He knew I wanted this adventure so much – he could _see _I wanted it. It was a chilling, scary feeling to have, thinking that someone could see into your soul and reveal your innermost feelings. It left my mind reeling and I suddenly felt trapped.

Then...just like that – he said it.

"Have you regarded taking your daughter too, on this trip?" he asked my father, one eye watching me carefully out of its corner. "It could be a real experience for the girl. One needs such exhilaration for them to exceed in life. Wouldn't you say?" I noticed that one hand constantly rubbed his chin in thought as he spoke.

_Can this be true? Clayton...I cannot believe he is suggesting this! I thought that..._

Daddy's answer was quite muddled, as though he could not make up his mind. "Well...yes, that's true – but not for Jane!" he said. She is too young, I think, for this kind of ordeal, but...well; it _is _up for her to decide..." He turned towards me, his face in a curious frown. "What do _you _reckon, Janey?"

I tried to avoid Clayton's snicker at my nickname, staring back into Daddy's eyes with what felt like an elated grin on my face. _What do **I **reckon? What do **I...** oh, gosh! Daddy, you **must **take me to Africa with you! I hear it's so beautiful...and the jungles are supposed to be lovely this time of year! And gorillas..._ I trailed off in my thoughts, trying in those few seconds to remind myself of all the research I had read on the creatures. I wasn't sure why, perhaps to prove myself worthy of going, I suppose.

"I would _love _to go!" I replied cheerfully, clutching my father's arm in joy. I could have laughed in glee, I felt so happy. "Oh – thank you for giving me this opportunity! I promise you I'll be careful – you won't have to worry about me at all, I assure you..." I was unsure how long I sat there, pouring out my thanks. My eyes hurt a little afterwards though, perhaps from scrunching up too much from delight. It was still taking a while for me to realise the situation.

_I'm really going..._

"There! Would you look at that!" Clayton exclaimed, as Daddy brought my shoulders into a warm hug. "You see what happens when you present her with a voyage to an overgrown forest? She laughs, she _speaks_! She lights up the room! A remarkable change in the girl who provided us with tea."

I was too wrapped up in contentment to persist any more talk on his remark. I was still trying to control my heart from pounding too hard – it was happening! It was really happening for me. I had not felt such a release of strain for a long time.

"Thank you, Daddy!" I almost sang with pleasure. "You don't know how much this means to me!"

_Finally! _I thought, eagerly. _I get to have a real adventure!_

I did not mind serving the tea for the rest of that night, either.


	3. A Dream

**Disclaimer: **Characters from Tarzan belong to Edgar Rice Burroughs & Disney. Any other characters and/or descriptions belong to me.

* * *

**Chapter 3 – A Dream**

That following night was cold and dark. The wind whistled through the leaves of the city trees and blew past the houses. I shivered a little and wrapped my arms around myself, stepping over and shutting my own window before the infernal draughts came in. Clayton was right about one thing, the weather this week had not been the most pleasant.

_Ugh, Clayton! _I banished all thought of him from my mind, our meeting returning to memory. He certainly had not been the politest of men. In all honesty, I had felt rather disgusted with his behaviour – I didn't care if he and Daddy had been acquainted professionally on business matters, it still was no way to treat a guest!

_And to think, he's coming with us after all, _I thought, with disappointment. _I would have preferred he forwarded us to someone with more...enthusiasm - more passion on the subject. After all, it was not every day an opportunity like this came about. I'm just relieved that Daddy let me go, in the end._

I sat down slowly onto the four-poster bed, letting myself sink into the sheets. I was still thinking back to Daddy's words from earlier before. He had said that I was far too young, in his opinion, for this journey. If he were as strict as a grumpy buffalo he would _never _hear of it. Perhaps I was lucky then, that he wasn't.

But it still didn't make me feel any better. All I was reminded of was the day of the funeral, and the things that he had told me, then. Memories didn't help me much around this house. _Mother was the firmest glue that held this family together, _I told myself, glumly. _Now that she's gone, I feel as though I have to take that responsibility upon my own shoulders. _

I hung onto one of the wooden knobs of the bed and placed my cheek against it, thinking. I was not the same person I was three years ago, although I tried to be. I never used to let my mind wander to any tragedy or danger in the future. Now that my mother was gone, I seemed forever cautious around those I cared about.

I stood in front of my mirror, brushing my hair, and looking back at my reflection.

_A worried reflection. Even when I was smiling, it showed. No wonder the gentlemen stayed away._

To be honest, the latter thought had not entered my mind for a long time now. Mother was always the one to bring it up – in my view, it made me feel a little uncomfortable talking about it. The new fashions were invented to make the men's eyes wander, onto the hair and face and clothes. Secretly I wondered if Daddy and Mother were undeniably leading me into this trend, to gain more attention towards my appearance – and perhaps, although I _dreaded _mentioning it... to sign myself off as a likely candidate to be wed.

In my personal view, it was too soon.

Not age-wise, of course. It was only... I didn't feel ready. I didn't feel my love was strong enough. I was not the type to fall into delusions of hopeless romances. I was no longer a child.

I placed the brush back onto the table with a groan and sat there, in front of the mirror with my chin in my curled fists. Now that I thought back to it, Mother and Daddy often brought home new presents after their journeys... new hats, new boots...new _corsets. _I had still not managed to relieve myself of the ache in my ribs the first time I gave one of _those _a try.

It was all for my own benefit, they would say.

I sidled a look across the counter, staring at the flickering flame of the candle. How I wished things could be different. I knew that _eventually _I would grow used to the way people walked, and behaved around London...including holding the little tea cakes and china plates between my fingers. I had grasped the basics...but it all seemed rather pressuring. I liked having the feeling of escaping into one of my books or paintings, and letting my imagination run wild...and free.

Not trapped, nor withering..._drowning_ in a river of cobblestones.

_London, _I thought, with a roll of the eyes, _where smoke was fresh air._

I caught a glimpse of my nose in the mirror – a little turned up, it was. It was just something else to spite me turning into a proper lady.

"_You have the perfect nose of posture, Jane. Indeed a grand woman."_

Sighing, I banished Mother's words away from my mind (something I rarely did), turned away from my reflection and softly blew out the candle.

-xXx-

_Monday, 24th January 1909_

Over the few days that had passed since the arrangement had been settled, Clayton had arrived every other morning to discuss the details through with Daddy. Although I was going too, I had decided to stay out of the way...for the better. I felt that whenever I sat there and asked questions, or had my say, Clayton would shoot me an impertinent look and curl his lip in a sneer.

So I had left the situation to come down to examining the details with my father afterwards, leading to less frustration. From the sound of it, we were to set out this weekend, on the Saturday morning by carriage to the docks. There, we would take the boat that would lead us to Africa. If all went accordingly, we would arrive on Monday night – Tuesday at the latest.

Just as Clayton had said.

I sat in a simple reading dress, by the fireplace in our living room. It was not lit, as the sun shone from the windows, causing the frost on the sill to sparkle. The cold still lingered here...I wondered if it would be strange at all to feel the heat on my skin in the winter months.

Africa suddenly opened up many prospects I had never considered.

"Good morning, Miss Porter," I heard Esmeralda say as she passed through the hallway.

I looked up and smiled. "Oh! Good morning!"

Esmeralda was our household maid, and had remained in the Porter family name for some years. She was a gentle soul, but stern when it came around to it. As a child she made sure I understood how to darn my own wears and tears, and how to write my calligraphy correctly. Being of some Spanish heritage, she had once tried to introduce me to the language, with no such luck.

I was never the best at learning new tongues. I had basically floated around, tweaking and fiddling with my own until I was positive that my grammar was to its best. But Esmeralda was a decent soul, and was almost like a second mother in the house.

It was some comfort now to have her around. Over the years that had passed, she had provided such support to us both that I could not imagine how we would be without her. She had been a great aid to us in our suffering.

The book I sat with contained a decent amount of information about Africa and its rare delights, opening up new facts about the animals and locations. I felt as though I should be filling in as much as I could before we left. At least then I would feel greatly prepared if we ever ventured into the jungle.

"Anything interesting, perchance? Miss Porter?"

I snapped the binding shut with a jump and stared into the features of Clayton. He stood over the chair, leaning his arm against the headrest, smirking down at me from above.

_Goodness! He did startle me so! _I thought. _I did not expect him until this afternoon...it's a little soon, isn't it? _

I choked on a giggle and swallowed hard. "You shocked me, Mr. Clayton!" I half-whispered out, shaking a strand of hair out of my eyes and asking, "What are you doing here?"

_Not exactly blunt, Jane, _I said to myself, rather sarcastically.

Clayton chuckled to himself, continuing to grin down at me as though he found my presence amusing. "That's not a very friendly welcome, now, is it?" he asked, a dry, dull sound in the pit of his throat. He clicked his fingers together, rather annoyingly I might add, and smirked.

I sighed, changing my position in the chair to a more comfortable one. I hid the book down the side of the armrest, though I was unsure why.

"I'm sorry," I apologised stupidly. "I had no idea that you were here...this early."

"Oh, well that's easily understandable, sorry about the scare. I decided to come along a little... _sooner _than recommended. I thought your father could use some extra assistance; after all...he's such a busy man. He has so much work to do all by himself...and you are obviously preoccupied with your own...business." His sneering eyes caught sight of the book squatted down the side of the chair, clearly unimpressed with how I was spending my time.

_Well, that's a nice implication, _I thought crossly. _Thinking that I do nothing worthwhile!_

I hid a tiny scowl on my face, now having the freedom to pick up the cover and place it on my lap.

"How thoughtful of you," I said, rather sarcastically and my throat tight with unwelcome tones. I opened up the book back to the previous page I was reading, but continued to hold my stare with his. His small, beady eyes bored into mine.

"Well, yes, I thought so," he replied casually, pretending as though he had never noticed my negative comment. I knew that he had, by the way he was pulling at his thin moustache with a pursed, bitter glare.

Quite frankly, I was abashed that his mood had not changed at all since the time I had first been introduced to him. What made it worse was that he hardly seemed to _try _and be courteous. How was I ever going to learn to get along with him? If I had to travel halfway across the globe with someone, I at least wanted to hold decent conversation with them. Otherwise, I could not even imagine how I was going to cope.

"Are you certain that my father needs your requirements?" I asked suspiciously, remembering that Daddy had not even taken a foot into the study that morning. "Surely you don't need to go over the same issues day after day? A time will come when it will be known inside out from heart!"

I hadn't intended for it to be rude. It must have been, in Clayton's view.

He scowled at me. There was something about his scowl that made me feel rather sick inside – he bared his teeth from under those curled lips of his. I had noticed that whenever he became annoyed a small vein would throb repeatedly in the side of his neck.

"If you hadn't already come to notice, Miss Porter... your father's memory is not exactly Isaac Newton's," he spat, "if you look at it truthfully."

I didn't want to. _How boorish he is! _Daddy's recollections were I had to admit, a tad..._askew _at times, but there was no need to go bringing it up like that. The tight grip I already had around the binding of the book suddenly grew tighter. I shut it firmly again on my lap, but never turned around. I honestly did not know what I would have said if I had been in a worse mood.

"Really, do you mind, Mr. Clayton?" I said quietly. "I would appreciate it if - "

Clayton's chuckle completely threw me off what I was going to say. I was left sitting there, my mouth hanging open as he walked before me and smoothed back his hair...not from embarrassment but almost as if he _wanted _it to be. I wasn't sure whether to frown or laugh along with him.

"Aha-ha, oh, I apologise indeed for my outburst," he mumbled dryly, turning his back to me as he strutted around the room, to hide his expression. That didn't exactly help me at all.

"Really, though...my frustration is to explain the same things everyday, whether I like it or not," he explained. "It does become quite tedious – but because I want to help your father remember, I come back. This last week requires the most urgent information."

_In other words, we're going to be seeing plenty of him, _I thought with distaste.

"I'm sure Daddy will appreciate your help," I said, trying to be as polite as I could.

"Everyone always does," Clayton replied, lazily looking around the room and the art designs hanging by their tied knots on the wall. "Where would he be, this morning?" An air of negativity followed his direction. He sounded positively bored to be in my company.

_Oh, well, Jane. You can't please them all. _

I tucked a loose strand of hair back onto my head before slowly turning the page in my fingers. Words I did not concentrate on shot past my eyes – important instructions perhaps that I did not take in. There may have been something vital there, that would benefit on my survival...

_Something important..._

"To be honest, I haven't seen him," I said, truthfully. "Perhaps he's still sleeping?"

_Oh, I hope so, _I secretly thought. _I can't imagine what Daddy would say if he awoke to Clayton on his doorstep, unexpected. Knowing Daddy, he would perhaps blabber politely and invite him to stay anyway. _This was not uncommon. Many times a wormy statement had flown over his head without notice. It was not his fault – sometimes he just didn't catch onto things as quickly as others did.

Clayton remained to stay silent after that. Eventually he did move out of the room, choosing to wait in the parlour. The smell of his pipe floated back through the air.

_Somehow I don't think we're any closer than before, _I thought, staring after him through the open doorway, my hands stiff on the page. _Just an opinion, but still..._

There was a crushing pain below my throat; rather like a pressure...it made me want to scream. Inside I was suffocating, and it wasn't just from the smoke of that polished pipe.

It was something else.

-xXx-

The following days and nights left me reeling with a strange sleeping sickness. Although I knew that my energy should be alert and awake considering the circumstances, often I found that my head was splayed out upon the arm of the chair after a short, promised nap.

I had never experienced this type of fatigue before...though I wasn't concerned. I supposed it was just the excitement. Perhaps this was just to stock me up with sleep, as on the night before our departure I couldn't even shut my eyes.

I sighed. _How typical. It serves me right for lazing around the house, I suppose. But this week has been so tense and long...Daddy and Clayton have not let me help at all._

"It can't be Daddy's fault," I almost whispered to myself, wanting to draw him out of the blame. I hated it when I spoke to myself sometimes...like I was mad. There was no one around to hear...no one to disagree...

Usually it happened when I was nervous. But I wasn't nervous _now_...

Or _was_ I? After all, the coach was coming to take us to the docks tomorrow. In twenty-four hours we would be sailing across the Atlantic Ocean, our eyes set on the horizon of Africa's beaches, with a vast landscape to explore. And what was so strange about it all, was that I could not think of a single thing to worry about. If anything, I was excited. _Immensely _excited.

_I wonder if that will change when I actually arrive, _I thought, a seed of doubt in my mind.

I fell back softly into the pillows, watching the moonlight cascade across the mirror from the tight gap in the curtains, like a soft ripple across a calm, silver stream. The sight was comforting...soothing. Soon the brightness began to hurt against my eyes... a brightness that when I blinked, an image of a red line was burnt there, a slash across the pupils. I found that closing them helped with this problem well, and it was when I stopped and thought carefully that my mind began to drift away...as soon as I had latched onto it...it flew...

_Flying. I was flying. _

_There was a warm, fresh breeze shining upon my cheeks, as though they were thirsting for the draught like an elixir being poured. My eyes were closed...there was blackness all around me...and yet, there was not. Beyond my sight I could see an open mass of white cloud, reflected in an afternoon sky of blue topaz. _

_So far in the distance...however I felt so close I could touch it with my hands. I could reach out blindly and grasp a piece of it there, and it would be resting in my fingers...and a poignant feeling then came into my throat, the reason for which I did not know._

_No...not flying. I was running._

_I was running...but felt nothing below my feet. It was as though I was walking on air...running on air. My body moved swiftly, a light material of a cloth I did not recognise rippling against my thighs, soft and relaxing. My arms did not pump up and down for speed; instead I just let the wind take me, moving in a slow motion...my hair whipping beneath my shoulder blades._

_The only solitary sounds I heard around me were the steady breathing in my ears, soft and rhythmic...and faint rustling in all corners of my direction...but perhaps that was only me, rushing past scenery that I could not tell from just brushing past it what it was. The smells...they were unfamiliar to me also. I took them in as I ran...as though they were healing herbs to my senses. I wanted something unique to smell...to taste..._

_To touch..._

_The atmosphere felt so cool...so refreshing. I had never felt so...free before. This feeling was magical. I never wanted it to leave me. I never wanted it to leave me..._

_Never leave me..._

_**Never...**_

_I wanted to fly higher. I wanted to touch the sky. I knew that I could, if I tried. If I reached as far as my height would let me, I would be able to feel the blue brush against my fingertips...soft and gentle as perhaps the clouds themselves...or would it merely be mist? A wave of fog rolling around above my head..._

_So I jumped. I jumped, but did not fly like I had hoped. I fell._

_Like a bird with no strength left in its tiny wings, I fell. I couldn't even locate the hold I had on the air previously...it would not let me run again. That bond was now broken...and gravity had taken complete hold of my body. It was as though it had violently pushed me at my pivotal moment...at my most vulnerable, and now I plummeted back to earth._

_I did not open my eyes. I never even screamed. The wind, now instead of being relaxing and calming against my skin, tore past my ears like a spiteful, bitter storm...freezing them. I never knew how far away from the ground I was...I could have been up five feet, perhaps fifty. I waited for the impact of the ground with every beating second. My heart was racing._

_Then, a hand fell around mine...a firm, strong grip. _

_The opposite force jolted me...I almost bounced as though I had landed upon an invisible spring. A sudden, weightless feeling leapt into my stomach, although not one of nausea. I hung there, suspended...the feeling coming back into my legs and throat. For the first time in a long while...possibly even hours ago, I opened my eyes._

_I had been rescued. Someone had caught me. I was saved..._

_I was alive..._

The jolt in my dream felt the same as that to the sensation of landing, when one has been imagining that they were falling. I jumped in my bed, gasping, and my eyes quickly opened in shock.

It took me a while to realise where I was for a moment...that unmistakable terror when you feel as lost as a child, in a cold dark prison of mislaid memory. A clammy sweat splashed all over my body..._yes, I remember where I am now..._my heart was slowly reaching its normal pace...the walls began to look familiar.

I could memorize every inch of the dream. Every detail.

There was no way in Heaven or on Earth that I could forget.


End file.
